Cactus, bloom again in these thorny times,
Let your prickly pear wake up—
An antidote benign.
Last Easter fled, vain in its chimes.
The sun tilted its lens
Without a resurrecting sign.
Cactus, flower again in your prime,
Emblazon again our carpet,
Cast the festering fungus away.
Silence the prophets seeped in crime,
Who fashion their worshipers
Into mobs called astray.
Cactus, be our succulent savior,
A final gift from wounded nature.
